Reformation
by TudorRose1530
Summary: After the fall of the Galactic Empire, Luke Skywalker returns with his wounded father to be delivered into the hands of the Rebel Alliance. Can the man once known as Anakin Skywalker find solace and redemption?
1. Chapter 1

Luke strained as he hefted his father's powerful bulk, pulling the much larger man up the ramp to the nearest berth located in the back of the ship. Taking him under his arms, he tried to manually lift his father onto the bed. The jostling proving too much for the older man's already broken body, he groaned painfully. "Easy now," Luke said, lying him down. Ignoring the pain in his neck and back, he rummaged in the bulk head, pulling out whatever medical supplies were available. Emergency rations, blankets, bacta patches and an oxygen mask.

A hand reached up, weakly brushing Luke's arm before falling again.

"Don't try to speak." Luke urged softly. "You need to conserve your strength."

His father was fading, growing weaker with every laboured breath. He needed immediate medical care. A sudden shockwave shook the ship, causing Luke to almost lose his balance, colliding into the side of the ship. He grunted in pain.

"Son!" Anakin yelped, panicked. He managed to righten himself, ignoring the still throbbing pain in his body. "I'm alright," he lied, more concerned for the older man. "Just hang tight," he told him, securing him down before rushing to the cockpit. Slowly, the ship began to take off, Luke trying not to look at the debris falling and burning around them.

"Hold on!" He yelled, bracing as the final shockwave propelled them from the hanger and into the void of space, the doomed station finally exploding into flames. Breathing deep in relief, he put his head in his hands, suddenly drained as the events of the past day finally caught up with him.

"Luke..." his father's voice brought him from his thoughts. He hurried to the back of the shuttle to where the old man lay. "Hey," he said, kneeling by his side as he took hold of his hand. "How are you feeling?'

Anakin shook his head, wearily. "I...don't know." He didn't know how he was feeling or how was supposed to feel.

"Tired?" Luke asked, concerned as he looked over the complex life-support system his father depended on to live, a life saving system which was now killing him. A long, low exhale came from the mask. "I'm always tired, son."

"You're going to be okay." He reassured, squeezing his hand. "I promise."

When the his father's breathing continued to worsen, becoming more laboured and strained, he knew what needed to be done next.

"This needs to come off," he muttered, gesturing to the fearsome mask. If his father was so have a chance of survival, the mask would need to be removed. Damaged beyond repair, it only caused the old man to further pain.

"Luke...no..." Anakin's voice held a hint of wariness.

"Do you trust me?" He asked his father. The older man remained silent. "Father, do you trust me?" He asked again, gentler. This time, he have a single, weak nod. "I do."

Luke reached down, his hands finding the clasps that connected helmet to the faceplate; he pried with his thumbs, watching the older man's chest as he gasped and heaved, the sound becoming a distorted crackle through the microphone in his visor.

He slowly parted the segments of the helmet, setting the pieces aside as he unmasked the monster, as though he was finally giving a face to the fears of so many who had stood against the might of this terrible warrior. Luke felt the nervous lump in his throat quiver as he removed his father's faceplate.

The face that looked up at him was one he could never have imagined. Pale, chalk white skin, like that of a man long dead; a hairless head dressed with deep, raised contusions that sat almost open, those eyes, those ice coloured eyes, milky with cataracts, pupils small and pin pointed, as though they cut right though him with the unfocused stare that met his eyes. He couldn't help but shiver when he looked into those eyes, the eyes of a corpse, yet somehow, this man still lived.

Everything seemed silent as his stare remained fixed on those milky, far away eyes. In spite of everything that had happened between them, everything they stood for, one thing was consistent in his mind when he thought of Darth Vader; he saw power. Seeing him like this, the fight taken from him in this one, great act of self sacrifice robbed the man of both the fear he wielded with great precision but also of the strength he possessed.

Quickly reaching for the oxygen mask, he slipped it gently over his father's head. Something shone in his father's blue eyes. Tears.

"Thank you," was all he could manage as father and son shared their first, real smile.

"You should try to rest," Luke suggested, standing. "We'll be with the Alliance soon." Anakin nodded, old eyes starting to drift shut. Exhausted, the former Sith fell into a deep sleep. After insuring his oxygen levels were stable, he returned to the cockpit, his own legs finally giving out.

 _We'll be with the Alliance soon._

He kicked himself. Was that meant to be a comfort? He was no fool, his compassion aside. He knew his father was a dangerous man and now one of the most wanted in a galaxy. A murderer and a war criminal, he knew what awaited him once they returned to Home One, but what other choice did he have? Ignoring his father's pleas to let him die, he couldn't.

The sooner he contacted them, the better. Taking the ships comlink, he sent a message to the remaining rebel fleet; "Come in, anyone out there. This is Commander Skywalker, repeat, this is Commander Skywalker. I've taken possession of an Imperial Lamba Class Shuttle, identification code ST-312. I have a wounded passenger aboard, requesting immediate medical attention. Repeat, immediate medical attention."

He set the com down, covering his mouth as he waited for someone to answer, anyone. He didn't know how much longer his father would be able hold out. The com whirred to life then, a crackled voice coming through; _"This is Redemption. Commander Skywalker, do you copy?"_

Luke grabbed the com, relief rushing through him. "Yeah, I copy! I have a seriously wounded passenger aboard, requesting immediate medical attention."

 _"We're sending you our coordinates. Medical personnel will be waiting."_

"Copy that." He threw the com down, rubbing a hand tiredly over his face. He felt like he could sleep for a week. When he received the coordinates, he only prayed that he could come up with a good explanation as he prepared for lightspeed. The journey through hyperspace was quicker than Luke would have liked, still having no idea how he was going to explain how he was bringing one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy aboard for medical attention.

Now greeted with the massive cruiser, the com again came to life. _"Commander Skywalker. This General Daros. Proceed to main docking bay. Medical staff are waiting for you."_

"Thank you, sir." Suppressing the nerves in his stomach, he guided the shuttle into the designated hanger bay where a team of medics were waiting with a gurney. He kept his distance as they rushed in, watching as they lifted the unconscious man, securing a more complex mask to his face before he was hastily wheeled from the shuttle.

He followed a few steps behind, watching as they wheeled him away. It was only then did they catch his eye. As he walked he saw others, ship's engineers, military personnel, shuttle guards, all watching the prone figure being pushed away.

He averted his eyes, keeping focus on his father as he heard the hushed voices, saw the mixture of fear and excitement in their gaze.

Luke widened his gait to walk side by side with the gurney, watching his father lie there. As he watched, he noticed him shifting on the journey, the wheels moving quickly from side to side as they moved. He looked to the cause, a young paramedic, a tremor in his grip.

The young medic looked up, his eyes catching Luke's before averting his gaze, clenching the rail to steady himself.

They moved quicker, the old man moving as he lay, not yet stirring. As they boarded the elevator to take them three floors up to the med-bay, he began to shake violently. The medics looked to each other, Luke watching as he began to cough and splutter, casting moisture into the air, eyes starting to tear.

"What's going on?" Luke asked, growing increasingly concerned. The medics held his shoulders to steady him as he writhed. His life support was rapidly diminishing.

"He's not getting any air, a blockage?" One of the medics asked, increasing his oxygen supply.

"We'll need to create a new passage." Interjected the youth, reaching into his scrubs to produce a scalpel. He moved in, levelling the blade at his throat that was now bared, his head pushing back as he fought for breath. Luke reached out, grabbing the young man by the wrist.

"I asked what's going on?" Luke asked, suppressing the panic in his voice. "What are you going to do?"

"I need to make an incision. He's choking."

"He has equipment to help him breathe, it's damaged. You're not cutting him!"

"Commander Skywalker, please!" Another urged, reaching over his father to pull his attention from the youth. "We won't cut him. He may settle, but I need you to calm down. This isn't helping him."

Luke watched the men all looking at him, could feel the young man's arm shaking in his grasp which had tightened involuntarily. He let go quickly, realising which hand he had held him with.


	2. Chapter 2

As his father was rushed into the emergency room, Luke remained outside, pacing anxiously while trying to ignore the growing pain in his legs. He had completed the admission forms, listing himself as the patient's next of kin and giving full consent to any tests or procedures his father may need to undergo. He now sat in the hallway, hunched forward as he nursed a now cold cup of caf, watching as the medical staff rushed in and out of the room, hurriedly returning with various pieces of equipment and machines.

One ran back, carrying a defibrillator.

Burying his face in his hands, he tried his best to drown out the noise, the beeping of monitors, the frantic administration of orders that only served to remind him of just how much danger his father was in. The more time lingered the more his mind began to wander, thoughts began to form, ones that up until this point he had pushed to the back of his mind, was he really doing the right thing? His father had survived for many years, but he'd never lived a comfortable life. Kept alive by the use of crude, outdated machinery, was he only prolonging the inevitable? He couldn't-

"Commander?" A man's voice roused him from his musings.

He turned to see a man approach him, dressed in a pristine white uniform, clutching a datapad under his arm as well as the forms he had earlier completed upon his father's admission.

"Doctor Fredrick Lutz." He extended an arm in greeting. "I've been taking care of your father."

"How is he?"

"For the moment, he's stable. Though it was touch and go for a while there, I'm afraid. There was a lot of damage we had to take care of. His remaining prosthetics needed to be removed as did his armour which I'm afraid sent him into a state of shock. He's currently on external life support but has been responding well to the medication we've given him. Given the seriousness and fragility of his condition, he will be closely monitored. He's resting now."

Struggling to comprehend everything he was hearing, the young man cleared his throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump that seemed to have lodged itself there. "Can I see him?"

Lutz smiled sympathetically. "Soon, all being well. At the moment, we'd like to run a few more tests just to be safe."

"I understand. Thank you." Despite his worry, he couldn't hide the wince in his voice as the reoccurring pain in his back and legs flared up once again and it was not lost on Lutz. Stepping closer to the young man, he placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to steady him.

"Are you alright?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah, just...been a long day."

"Perhaps you should get yourself checked out?"

Luke smiled, raising a hand reassuringly. "I'm fine, really. I'm just happy to be back. Just need a chance to breathe."

Judging from the other man's face, he wan't convinced. "Speaking professionally, commander, I really must insist. You're sweating and from what I can see, barley able to stand. It can be a little hard to spot if you don't know what to look for, but you appear to be showing signs of residual electrical energy, possibly from a heavy shock."

Luke's eyes met Lutz's, his hands moving down to rest on his knees, tensing his fists to try and suppress the tremor still in his legs.

"While it is showing more aggressively in your father, a check up would only take a few minutes. I could even perform it myself, if you like?"

"My father-"

"Will be fine." He reassured. "He's in the best hands, I promise you. Right now, you need to focus on yourself. The last thing you want is for this to lead to complications further down the line, believe me."

Luke's eyes moved passed Lutz, his eyes falling on the door his father lay behind. The quiet made him more nervous than the fuss and the noise somehow; he told himself that if something was wrong he would have been told by now, still trying to push his worry to the very back of his mind. His was slowly roused the weight of a hand on his shoulder, he looked up to his the doctor looking down at him, a warm smile, someone familiar on the man's face.

"You're worried, I understand. We all have to take care of our fathers, eventually. It's just the way of things. He's not going anywhere, son, not on my watch."

Lutz offered an outstretched hand to Luke. He paused, only for a short moment before seizing it, being helped to his feet on still shaking legs.

The checkup, as promised, took only a few minutes. Calcification, just as Lutz had thought but he had assured the young man that with enough rest and the prescription course he had issued him the pains would begin to recede over the next few days. Pocketing the small bottle, he started to make his way back towards the emergency room.

"Hey, junior!"

Unable to suppress the beaming smile upon hearing the familiar voice, he turned to see a very familiar smuggler, his arms outstretched with a certain princess by his side.

"Luke!" Leia cried as she ran to embrace him, holding herself tight to chest. He returned the embrace, holding her as tight as he could, stumbling back only to be cushioned by a mass of long, brown fur covered arms that enveloped them both.

"You had us worried, little buddy. What happened up there?" Han asked, patting Chewie lightly on the arm, the Wookiee releasing his grip on the pair.

"Long story," He said with a faint smile, lightly shaking his head.

"I'll bet!" Hen let out a laugh, giving Luke a playful jab in the arm before placing his hand on Luke's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. Luke couldn't help but smile with relief before his eyes found his sister's gaze. Leia smiled softly at him, her eyes narrowing quizzically as she tilted her head to the side as she questioned him wordlessly; Luke's eyes remained fixed on hers as he nodded slowly, he couldn't hide his anxiety from her but he hoped it would at least ease her mind.

"Commander Skywalker?" He turned to see a medical droid approaching, trepidation rising in his chest. "Sir, I am pleased to inform you the procedure was a success and the patient has now been moved to a private recovery room, if you wish to see him."

He nodded. "I would be very grateful."

As the droid offered to escort them, Leia hastily moved in front of her brother, touching his arm. "Luke, what's wrong?"

He moved his arm out from under her hand, taking her arm in turn and squeezing it reassuringly. "Come with me, I'll explain everything." Luke said softly, trying to steady his nerves before turning to follow the droid, Leia in tow.

"Someone wanna tell me what's going on here?" Han asked over his shoulder, Chewie shrugging, replying with a confused trill. Han shook it off before trailing behind the siblings, Chewie at his side.

The first thing they noticed was the smell, antiseptic and sterile. The white walls almost haloing the florescent glow from overhead. Luke was oblivious to the heat of the room, Han adjusting his collar uncomfortably to air himself. All eyes were fixed on the patient.

He lay covered with a light gauze sheet, his pale, emaciated frame and brittle ribs visible under stretched, chalky skin. There was a faint, persistent humming from a large oxygen machine and the consistent beeping of a heart monitor. Two IV bags hung above him, clear tubes secured to his upper arm while others fed into his nose and mouth, assisting every strained breath. Leia shuttered visibly as her eyes studied his body, the sheet hugging his body tightly, showing the empty space under his elbow and knees.

"Jeez, he's been through the wringer." Han said solemnly, reaching out to squeeze Leia. "Where did you pick this guy up, Luke?"

Leia's eyes widened, her body tightening as she looked over at the man, what was left of him, lying in the bed before them. Her gaze found Luke's, who was already looking at her with a barely contained hesitance, his eyes pleading her to show a trace of understanding somewhere on the surface.

She pulled herself free from Han's grip, almost bowling him over as she almost fought her way from the room. Luke shook his head, weaving between Chewie and Han as he chased after his sister, leaving them alone with their father.


End file.
